


Now I'm Here (A Queen Fanfiction)

by 19BeyondGone49



Series: Clogs for Paws [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1970s Era Queen (Band), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Band Fic, Clogs for Paws, Early Queen (Band), Fluff, Gen, Hompy Bong, Humor, London, Lycan!Brian, Lycan!Deaky, Lycans, Maybe. My readers figured a big one out last time, Miami, Mom Friend Freddie Mercury, Monster Hunters, Monsters, Oh Dear, Plot Twists, Pre-Slash, Queen - Freeform, Red Special Guitar (Queen), Seer!David, Vampires, Werewolf Lore, Werewolf Turning, Werewolf!Brian, Werewolf!Deaky, Werewolves, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25394050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/19BeyondGone49/pseuds/19BeyondGone49
Summary: Part 2 in the Clogs for Paws seriesJust when Brian May thought his new life couldn't get any worse after nearly escaping death, he has to deal with the Lycan that changed him: a Lycan called John Deacon.OrFreddie adopted a new puppy named Deaky. Brian is not pleased.And Brian keeps catching Roger staring at him...
Series: Clogs for Paws [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794955
Comments: 49
Kudos: 26
Collections: BeyondGone's Queen Favorites





	1. the Trailer

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lowkey this is just me fighting with the site trying to get a picture uploaded because I am dumb

I'm back. I'm about to start writing the outline of 'Now I'm Here,' part two of the 'Clogs for Paws' series!

I am so excited to see where this story goes.

I sure hope you guys like reading this as much as I will like writing it.

I originally got this idea by messing around with the eye color of Queen on an app called Facetune 2. So, without further ado, here is the result of one of those recolors...

[After fighting my computer for half an hour, I've decided to just give you this google doc link. Tell me if you can see my email or name because I wish for both of those to be private.](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1_7pXUeMt-bQ_IWdS9m9xHdCOMS-Dgteu/view?usp=sharing)

[Here is another picture. Deaky looks kinda freaky, though](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1CW6skYUZ3RZZeaomF3DOEwLTPrvLa6nh/view?usp=sharing)

The only piece of technology that I get along with is my printer. I'm not mad at my computer, I'm just disappointed. 

I would love to hear any predictions or requests down in the comments below!

EDIT- CHAPTERS ARE NOW UP!!!


	2. [Instead of] Calling All Girls [,Roger wants to call the police]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I AM BACK
> 
> Brian, Freddie, and Roger meet the werewolf that turned Brian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

Roger's POV

———∞◊∞———

A sharp pang of tension sang through Freddie's living room. Roger turned around and looked at John. John was still like a deer in headlights and his eyes _glowed a pale yellow._

Roger looked in the doorway into the living room and saw Brian standing there with his hair pressed flat and slicked back like a greaser. His furious facial expression contrasted John's almost fearful one. His eyes glowed like a burning fire.

Then Brian snarled through his fangs at John, " ** _YOU!_** _"_

Brian dropped the grocery bags onto the floor and his soaking wet head of hair spiked up at the roots like an angry animal's hackle making him look even taller than before. 

Roger gulped, "Brian..." 

Ignoring him, his friend stomped over to John who raised up his bass guitar in defense like a baseball bat.

"You did this to me!" Brian snarled. 

John jumped backward and stepped up on Freddie's couch. He clenched the neck of his bass and screamed, "I didn't mean to! I swear!"

Brian grabbed a throw pillow from a chair and chucked it at John's head. John batted it away and it landed a few feet from Roger. Roger gasped. The pillow was torn from Brian's claws. _I'm going to shit my pants,_ Roger thought. 

"What the fuck is going on here?" Freddie yelled. He wedged his way between Brian and John.

Brian pointed one long crooked finger at John with his amber eyes gleaming. "He is the one who turned me! The wolf in the woods at Hompy Bong. It's him!" he accused.

John panicked and insisted, "I didn't mean to! I didn't have good control over myself because of the full moon. I bit you because I thought you were going to hurt me like the others!"

"Why are you here, hm? To mess up my life more than you already have?" Brian asked with an arched eyebrow. His eyes darted to sheet music that laid on the coffee table and dashed back to John. _Is he going to t_ _hrow the music like an American football?_ Roger thought.

Roger grabbed the paper off of the table and said, "Calm down, mate. You are destroying stuff." 

John's eyes faded back to natural light green. "I came here to find you," he said, "I thought what happened was just a bad dream. When I smelled you back in the forest, I immediately organized a transfer to London to find you."

A few tears streamed down Brian's face and he asked, "Fine me? Why?"

John lowered his bass and replied, "We are a pack. I turned you, so you are my responsibility." 

_Oh come on, John's got to be at least five years younger than Brian,_ Roger thought, _There is no way he is responsible for him._

John hopped down from the couch and slowly rested his instrument against the wall. He never turned his back on Brian and maintained eye contact even when the bass fell to one side with a thud. The last bits of fire in Brian's eyes was quenched by hazel as he intently watched the young lad. 

"I assume, that they, erhm, already know that you are, uh, a Lycan?" John asked as he gestured between Roger and Freddie. 

Roger folded his arms over his chest. "Found out a week ago. Those hunters from Hompy Bong got us, but they left," he answered.

"Oh good. Not good that you got attacked by hunters, but good that you know about him and me, and that you survived the hunters. Otherwise, this situation would be a lot more awkward," John said with a sigh of relief. 

Brian nodded his head to the kitchen and asked, "Freddie, Roger, a word?" 

The three stood huddled in a corner of the kitchen. 

Freddie glanced over his shoulder back to the living room and started, "I think we should give him a chance."

Brian choked on his own disbelief.

"Are you sure?" Roger questioned with wide eyes. _Surely Freddie isn't being serious,_ he thought. 

"He seems normal, or at the very least a halfway decent chap," Freddie continued.

Brian snapped, "I'm sure he does when he isn't about to tear your arm off!"

Freddie furrowed his eyebrows and said, "He said it was an accident."

"And we are to believe him?" Roger asked. Brian turned his head to Roger and the corners of his mouth perked up like a silent thank you. Roger nodded in solidarity.

Freddie defended, "Why shouldn't we? I suggest we lend the benefit of the doubt."

"He's dangerous," Brian protested.

"So are you!" Freddie argued. 

_He's got a point,_ Roger thought.

Brian defended, "I haven't bitten anyone, wolf or otherwise."

 _He's got a point too,_ Roger thought. 

"So, what do we think?" he asked.

Before Brian could say anything, Freddie answered with a flick of his wrist, "He came here out of goodwill. We should give him a chance."

"Fine," Brian growled. 

"Whatever, Freddie," Roger muttered.

Freddie strut back into the living room followed by Roger and Brian. John sat on the couch with his hands folded in his lap and his head bowed like he was praying. When the trio entered the room, he stood up and awaited his verdict. 

"So, why would a little fuzzball like yourself want to play bass in a band, dear?" Freddie asked. 

John took a deep trembling breath and replied, "I thought it would be a while before I found Brian because London is such a big city. I felt that it would be a fun thing to do in the free time apart from looking for him and school." 

Freddie turned to Roger and Brian and held out his hands on either side of him.

"I think that it would be best if you went back to Hompy Bong," Brian said.

John tilted his head and said, "I transferred here." 

"The transfer back!" Brian yelled.

"He can't just transfer back," Roger said, "He must have pulled a million strings just to get here in the middle of the semester."

Brian's shoulders slumped and he gave Roger a look of betrayal. 

"I'm here now whether you like it or not," John affirmed. 

Roger couldn't help but stare. That was the first remotely assertive thing John said all meeting.

"I like a man with resolution," Freddie purred. 

Brian juddered like he was about to explode. If it had been any other circumstances, Roger might have even found Brian's intense anger amusing. 

"Now, darling, do you have anywhere to stay now that you live here?" Freddie asked.

Roger looked at Freddie and shook his head. _I know what you are doing. Don't you dare,_ Roger thought, _this is already enough of a powderkeg as it is. We don't—_

John interrupted Roger's thoughts and said, "I'm currently staying at a hotel until I find a roommate for the dorms."

 _No, no, no,_ Roger thought. He felt like he was watching a trainwreck in slow motion. 

"Why don't you room with me? I have a spare bedroom," Freddie offered, "Rent will be reasonable, and besides, I could use the extra cash." 

Roger's hand flew to his mouth. The train just derailed.

"I'd love to. Thank you," John replied.

The train hit a wall of people. 

"Good, good. As you may have seen, I have two cats. I hope you like animals," Freddie said with a smile.

"I love animals. I had a pet dog back home that I am sure that I am going to miss," John grinned.

The train exploded. Everyone's dead. 

_But how would that even work with the bloke being a werewolf and him having a dog? Because he is sometimes a dog, but not really, and he has a pet dog,_ Roger pondered as he rubbed his head, _God, this is making my brain hurt. So many things going so wrong so fast._

Freddie practically pulled John to the kitchen table to talk about coliving and Brian slumped onto the floor in a defeated heap. He leaned forward and covered up his face with his hands.

"You alright, Bri?" Roger asked as he sat down on the floor next to him. 

"Yeah," Brian's voice answered muffled through his fingers, "Yeah, I just can't believe the wolf— he found me and he is here, is basically in the band, and is going to be flatmates with Freddie."

Roger softly added, "And is a tad bit of a shy lad, isn't he?"

Brian nodded his head and brought his hands down to his lap. "Not at all what I expected. Still, he did this to me. I thought I had some sort of closure after the hunters, but now," Brian said and he looked over at John and Freddie chatting away in the kitchen. He continued, "Now it is all stirred up again."

 _Of course, Freddie had to take_ this _one under his wing,_ Roger thought as he fought back an eye-roll. 

John laughed from the kitchen table, "Oh yeah, Freddie. I used to work on cars all the time back in the village. Helped get me into electronics. I love 'em." 

Roger whipped his head around and shouted, "I love cars!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***IMPORTANT****
> 
> My update schedule is going to be WACK. I've got nine chapters planned out so far, but those would put us only about halfway done with this fic. I might split this story into part one and part two. I'm starting the initial writing process now because I don't know how much time I will have to write later.
> 
> As always, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!


	3. ["Well,] Now I'm Here [," John said.]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's thoughts on meeting the wolf he turned. 
> 
> Brian wants a refund on life.
> 
> Freddie asks John some questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

POV Switch to John

———∞◊∞———

As soon as John entered Freddie's flat, the familiar and hauntingly comforting scent of his pack member hit his nose like a truck. 

_ He's just been here, _ John thought, _I just missed him._

"Please come in," said a man with raven black hair and a big smile, "I'm Freddie Bulsara, lead vocalist, and pianist of Queen. We spoke on the phone earlier."

John smiled shyly in reply. _Don't scare them off,_ he told himself, _Make a good impression._

"I'm Roger Taylor. I'm the drummer and one of the singers of Queen," said a blond man standing next to Freddie. Roger stuck out his hand and John gladly shook his hand. _Not too firm, not too loose,_ John thought to himself.

"Brian May, our guitarist, went to go get something for us to eat. He should be back shortly," Roger said matter-of-factly. 

John beamed, "Wonderful! Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

Freddie led John through his freshly cleaned house. The Lycan inhaled and thought _two cats. And he was definitely just here._ Roger brushed past him and the scent of his packmate lingered on his clothes. _So he is good friends with these blokes,_ John thought as he moved one of the guitar amps and pulled his Deacy amp out of its protective wrapping.

His heart fluttered with the idea that he was going to soon meet the man he turned, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. _I kind of wanted being in this band to be an outlet of normalcy, but maybe Freddie and Roger can just introduce me to him and they don't have to know,_ John thought.

He felt the stares of the drummer and the pianist bare down on him. He looked up and saw they looking quizzically at his little amp.

"Made it myself a few months ago out of scraps I found in a dumpster," John said. _Took a hell of a time figuring out the wiring, but it sounds great,_ he mentally added.

"Fascinating, dear. And how did you know how to do such a thing?" Freddie asked.

"I study electrical university at uni," John replied with a grin.

Roger muttered something that John didn't catch.

Freddie suddenly asked, "What did you say your name was again, love?"

John's heart sunk a little. "John Deacon," he answered.

John tuned his bass and the other two men asked him questions like where he was from. He played for them a handful of songs, careful to show his proficiency in fingerstyle and pick. He even popped a few notes just to show off. _Hopefully, they don't want slap,_ John thought, _that's not my expertise, but I can learn it if I need to._

As he played, John kept an eye on the two men who sat in front of him. He knew that Freddie meant well even though he forgot his name. Roger, however, was more suspicious of him and he felt antsy under his intense blue gaze. Much to John's relief, they both liked his playing and it seemed he only needed the lead guitarist's approval to join the band. 

_Where is he, anyway?_ John wondered.

Then Freddie's front door opened and closed, and before John knew it, his new packmate stood at the living room entry. The familiar smell swelled in his nose and he sharply inhaled. The Lycan's eyes glowed like hot embers, unlike any other werewolf John had ever seen before. He was just like how John remembered through his flashes of shifted memory, tall and thin with lanky limbs and long fingers. John's eyes continued to study his face before they landed on bared fangs. John froze. _Oh shit,_ he thought. 

" _ **YOU**!" _his packmate roared as he charged at John. 

John jumped up on Freddie's couch behind him to gain some sort of high ground advantage and raised his bass over his head like a baseball bat. _Like that will stop him,_ he thought. Before he knew it, he heard the sound of fabric tearing and a pillow was thrown at his face. He hit it away with the body of his bass like Babe Ruth. John decided, _Maybe this is better than nothing._

The next few moments happened fast. One moment the other three men went to the kitchen, the next John prayed for the situation to work out peacefully, and then he was offered a room at Freddie's. 

John automatically replied before he got a chance to think, "I'd love to. Thank you." 

_This feels too good to be true,_ John thought. The universe seemed to be pushing him and his packmate, which he figured was Brian May the guitarist, together. _That would make sense, though,_ John thought to himself, _unless I reject him, it is the natural order of the world for us to be together as a pack._

Freddie led him by the arm to the kitchen table. 

_I bet that is why he was driven back to Hompy Bong in the first place,_ John thought as he sat down across from the singer. The man's gaze was sparkling under the lights even though the corners of his mouth tipped downwards. 

"Are you alright, dear?" Freddie asked in a low voice.

"Yes, I'm fine," John replied in the same low tone, "No need to worry about me. If anything, I'm concerned about Brian. I know that it is a lot to take in."

"Good. Don't worry about it now. Let's get your housing situation figured out," Freddie said. Now his mouth boasted a toothy grin that matched his twinkling eyes. 

John said, "Thank you again, Freddie, for the offer. You don't know how much it means to me to have a home to hurry back to." 

"Darling, I know more than you think I do," Freddie smirked, "How about a fiver a month? How does that sound? Do you have a job that you could pick up to suitably pay for it? If not, I can be lenient."

John tilted his head back and forth thinking about a source of income. He raised his eyebrows when an idea struck.

"Around the area I saw your advertisement, I saw an offer for an automobile mechanics gig," John said, "I planned to apply for it anyways tomorrow."

"Do you like to work on cars?" Freddie asked. A sliver of mischief slid across his face.

John nodded and responded, "Oh yeah, Freddie. I used to work on cars all the time back in the village. Helped get me into electronics. I love them." 

Roger's booming voice called from the living room, "I love cars!" 

"Really? What a coincidence!" John cheerfully replied.

Brian growled from the other room and stormed out of the flat. 

"Brian? Brian!" Roger yelled. The once tough man seemed small like an abandoned kitten. He chased his friend out into the rain calling after him, "Bri! Where are you going?"

The pittering fall of the rain echoed through Freddie's flat. The singer rolled his eyes and got up and closed the front door that Roger left swinging open.

"They're gonna let the cats out, the little arseholes," Freddie swore as he plumped back down in his chair across from John.

They sat in silence for a moment before Freddie said, "I am so sorry about the way Brian acted. Totally out of character." 

"If we met as wolves, it'd probably be a little bit more civil than whatever just happened," John said, "But what's done is done."

Freddie twirled a strand of hair between his fingers. "So, dear, what is your story, hm?" he asked with an arched eyebrow, "Can I get you some tea? Wine perhaps?"

"If you had some milk, that would be great," John replied. 

Freddie paused for a moment to let the answer register before getting up and going to the refrigerator. He poured John a glass with his mind obviously elsewhere. 

Freddie handed John his glass and John silently thanked him. He returned back to the refrigerator to pour himself a bottle of wine. _Wonder what he is thinking about,_ John thought.

"So?" Freddie pressed on. 

John took a gulp of milk and answered, "What is there to know? I'm not all that interesting. I'm a little dull, you know, if anything." 

"Bitch, please. You turn into a wolf every night," Freddie said before taking a sip of his wine by the counter. 

"Not every night. You can learn to control the shifts, but you still have to go full wolf on the full moon," John said after he downed the last of his drink.

"Brian can't do that," Freddie said.

"That's what I'm here for, to teach him the ends and outs of being a Lycan," John replied.

Freddie rejoined him back at the kitchen table. 

"So, what about you, Freddie?" John asked, "What's your story?"

"I'm from Zanzibar. though I did a fair bit of my schooling in India. I studied art and design here in London," Freddie said with a bleak tone.

"Zanzibar? That is a long aways from London. And I thought I was far from home," John laughed. 

Freddie smiled, "London is my home. It's where my cats are."

John looked around for a moment to see if he could spot one. "What are their names?" he asked.

"Tom and Jerry."

"Like on the telly?"

"Like on the telly."

Freddie shifted in his seat and took another sip of his wine. _He thinks I'm weird,_ John thought, _maybe he's uncomfortable with me being here after all._

John cleared his throat and asked, "Are you sure you are alright about me staying here? We only just met, and well, you know..."

"Fortune favors the bold, darling," Freddie answered, "And spontaneity breeds excitement. Just don't eat my cats." 

John held up his hands in playful defense. "I won't. I am on a strict feline-free diet," he said.

"And don't bite me. I'm not into that shit," Freddie added. 

"Oh, don't worry," John affirmed, "Me turning Brian was a complete accident. I believe in consensual turning and wouldn't intentionally do it unless you absolutely wanted to." 

Freddie blinked a few times and took another sip. _Did I scare him again? I truly do abhor that I turned Brian. I wish I could go back and make sure that it never happened,_ John thought, _I've become what I've hated for so long._

Freddie waved his hand and asked, "Would you like another glass of milk, sweetheart?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was Deaky's POV?
> 
> Predictions and general comments are welcome!


	4. [Brian knows that] Leaving Home Ain't Easy [, but he really wants John to go back to Hompy Bong before he makes an new home at Freddie's]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger runs out in the rain to talk to Brian.
> 
> Brian catches Roger staring at him in a way that he never has before. (And maybe almost he caught himself giving it back.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

POV Switch to Brian

———∞◊∞———

Brian stood next to a little red phone booth a the street corner a couple of blocks down from Freddie's flat. He was soaking wet from the downpour of the rain and the tears that streamed down his face. His once slicked back hair hung heavily on either side of his face. He couldn't help but crinkle his nose at the smell of a wet dog that leaked from his skin. Sure, he felt miserable, but he needed a moment to think in the fresh air (or as fresh as London city air can get.) 

"Brian?" yelled a voice behind him. Brian turned around to see Roger running in the rain to him. The man's blonde hair grew darker as raindrops sprinkled down on it and his fancy jacket screamed for mercy in the wet air. 

The Lycan was torn. _I want to be left alone, but I feel so lonely,_ Brian thought. Before he had a chance to run away again, his friend was in front of him and gazed into his eyes with worry.

"Are you okay? You ran off into the storm. And what is that godawful smell?" Roger asked. 

Brian sighed, "The smell is me. I smell bad when I get wet like a dog, apparently." 

"Oh," Roger said, "Sorry about that. It really isn't too bad. I've certainly smelled worse. But you still haven't answered my first question."

"I'm fine," Brian said.

Roger arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "'I'm fine' my ass," he retorted.

Brian's shoulder slumped and he admitted, "I'm really not fine."

Roger asked, "Wanna talk about it? I know I might not seem like it, but I fancy myself a good listener."

"Thank you, Rog," Brian said, "But you don't have to listen to me grumble."

"No, but I _get_ to," Roger responded. 

Brian took a deep breath and exploded, "I just don't get it! Freddie opened his arms and his house to the wolf that almost cost us all of our lives. The hunters, which he is the reason for, attacked us all the way here. Hell, I fucking changed species because of him!"

Roger opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but he quickly slammed it shut again.

"Seeing him here, John, or whatever the fuck he is called, is like living it all over again," Brian continued.

"Living what again?" Roger asked.

"Being bitten by him. I almost lost my arm," Brian clarified, "And shifting too. You have no idea what it is like to have your humanity stripped away from you each night and become a fucking monster." 

Roger's baby blue looked at Brian broken. For a moment that lasted less than a fraction of a second, Roger's eyes glanced downwards at Brian's mouth before quickly darting back up again. Worried that the tips of his fangs peaked out of his gums, Brian skimmed over the tops of his teeth with his tongue. _They feel fine. I wonder what Roger was looking at,_ Brian thought. 

Brian felt himself instinctively take a step closer to Roger and continued, "And why would he come now? After almost two damn months? How dare he!"

He knew the answer. _Poor lad couldn't come because of school until he transferred,_ Brian thought, _but still. The absolute nerve of that bloody poohead._

Without a word, Roger gave Brian a hug and refused to let go. Reluctantly, Brian wrapped his arms around his friend and buried his head in his shoulder and inhaled the sweet scent of security and something else. _What is that other smell?_ Brian wondered, _I like it. It is so Roger._ Brian patted Roger's back and broke the hug. Roger's hands slowly retracted off of Brian, and Roger held Brian's arms.

"If you ever need anything, I am here," Roger said, "And I'll just listen if you need it." 

"Thank you," Brian said as he watched a raindrop slide onto Roger's lips. The Lycan quickly diverted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck. 

"At the very least, him being in the band will help us keep an eye on the ol' chap, eh?" Roger asked.

Brian nodded. _I'm sure that I can find something not terrible in this somehow,_ he thought, _though I wish I had Roger's optimism._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short baby chapter, I know. Next one will be longer
> 
> This is my first time writing some 'more than friends' tension, so I have no idea what I'm doing. (Think Freddie trying to drive a car.) 😬 If you guys like it, I'll go on with it, if not, then this can pose as the reason why Roger kisses Brian drunk at a party.
> 
> BIG THANK YOU TO THE PEOPLE LEAVING COMMENTS AND KUDOS (GUESTS TOO!)


	5. ["Sometime you have to] Spread Your Wings [and hope you don't plummet to your death trying to fly," John said.]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A MORE NORMAL LENGTH CHAPTER
> 
> John takes Brian out to lunch to answer some questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

A few days past since Brian met John and Brian refused to go to any band meetings. Instead, he only ever left his house to go to school or to get food. Roger would periodically check-in to make sure that Brian was okay and they would play card games before Roger would whisk away to work with Freddie at the used clothing shop. 

_I don't know who I hate more right now,_ Brian thought as he watched Roger drive off to work, _Freddie or John. At least I have Rog._

Brian sauntered over to his desk and opened up one of his class binders labeled 'Astronomy.' He pulled out a deck of notecards and began to scribble down key terms to flash study later. 

His phone rang from the kitchen and he growled. _I'll just let it ring,_ he decided, _I need to get this studying done. It is probably some telemarketer or something._ When the echoing ring finally stopped, Brian was able to concentrate enough to begin transcribing his notes again. 

A few minutes passed and the phone rang again. Brian snapped the pencil in his hand. _I really don't have time for this,_ Brian thought. He got up and stood by the phone torn between letting it ring out again or answering it to see who was desperate to speak with him. Before he found the courage to finally pick it up again, the ringing stopped. 

"That's very interesting," Brian muttered aloud. He walked back to his desk and prayed that whoever was calling him had given up. 

An hour went by and Brian had almost finished going through the notes in his most recent Astronomy chapter before the phone started to ring again.

"Bloody hell! What do they want?" Brian fumed. _Some people have lives and a class that they want to pass!_ he thought. 

He marched back over to the phone and answered it in the most chipper voice he could muster, "Good afternoon. This is Brian May speaking." 

"Hello, Brian. This is John Deacon," the voice on the other end greeted. 

Brian fought back the urge to slam the phone back down on its hook. 

"John," Brian asked through clenched teeth, "Why are you calling?" 

"Well, you haven't come to any of the band meetings in the past few days and I otherwise had no other method to reach you. Freddie wrote down your and Roger's number in case of emergencies, but this isn't really an emergency," John stammered.

"Then why are you calling if it isn't an emergency?" Brian asked. _And did he say 'your and Roger's number?'_ Brian wondered. 

John's sigh slapped Brian's ear through the phone and John replied, "I'd like to take you out to lunch to talk. Just the two of us to go over Lycan things. I'm sure you have questions."

"When? And where?" Brian inquired. He narrowed his eyes. 

"I scoped out a little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant called Sammy's that is in the middle of Freddie's place and your place. I thought it would be good to meet on neutral territory. I also checked out the menu and they have substantial vegetarian options since Roger mentioned yesterday that you were a vegetarian," John said, "And would it be alright if we went tomorrow just to get it out of the way?"

"Fine. I'll see you at twelve o'clock. Don't be late," Brian said. 

"Thank you, Bri—" John started. Brian cut him off by hanging up the phone. 

_Can't believe I just agreed to go to lunch with this kid,_ Brian thought, _he's good with his charms, I'll give him that. I lasted longer than the other two._

The next day when Brian went to Sammy's (which was as John said smack in the middle of Freddie and his flats,) John was already there waiting for him. The restaurant was made of red brick inside and out and was only big enough for twelve tables and a bar. Cheap paintings of Naples hang on the walls and soft classical guitar music played through the air. The air smelled like red sauce and Brian's stomach growled.

The Lycans made eye-contact and John stood up and waved Brian over to a booth against the back wall. Brian rolled his eyes and joined him at the table.

"Hello, Brian. Thank you for coming to lunch," John said as if their meeting was a normal get together between friends. 

Brian forced a smile and replied, "My pleasure." 

Brian quickly glanced over the menu that was placed in front of him and looked up at John who was staring at him.

Before Brian got to ask why John was looking at him, a waitress with long dark hair and shining dark eyes walked over and said, "My name is Sabrina and I will be taking care of you today."

"Hello, Sabrina," John greeted.

"What would you two boys like to drink, hm?" she asked. 

"I'll just have a water, please," Brian answered.

John nodded his head and said, "I'll have the same."

 _'I'll have the same,'_ Brian mocked in his head. He glanced over the menu and asked John without looking up, "What are you going to get, assuming that you already decided?" 

"Margarita Pizza," John answered completely oblivious to Brian's passive aggression, "And what about you? I've heard that pasta is good here." 

Brian looked over the kinds of pasta and failed to find a vegetarian option that didn't spike his hunger. _Damn it. He really did his research,_ Brian thought. 

"I think I will stick to the angel hair. It's a classic," Brian decided, "And the mushroom sauce looks good." 

"Yeah. That one is one of my favourites too," John agreed. 

Brian was tempted to change his mind. 

Sabrina walked to their table and placed their water down in front of them. "Are you ready to order?" she asked as she flipped open her notepad. 

"I'll have the margarita pizza, please," John said.

Sabrina scribbled down John's order and asked Brian, "And for you, sir?"

"Angel hair with the mushroom sauce, please," answered Brian. 

The waitress scribbled down his order and snapped the notepad shut. "I'll bring out your food when it is ready," she said. Sabrina walked to the kitchen to put in the boy's order and the two Lycans gazes followed her until she was out of sight. 

"So," John said bringing Brian's attention back to the Lycan that sat across from him, "Shall we start with the questions?" 

"Why did you turn me?" Brian almost immediately asked. 

John gulped and answered, "You might have already realized it, but when we are under the full moon, we aren't entirely there mentally. I thought you were going to kill me, so I acted in self-defense. I didn't even think about spreading it until the morning after."

 _That explains why my memory was so spotty from the night of the full moon,_ Brian thought. He continued to harden his gaze at the man across from him. 

John moved around in his seat and stammered, "Do, do you have any family, Brian? Do they know? I know you have Freddie and Roger, but this is hard to go through alone."

"I am an only child. I haven't seen my parents in person since it happened," Brian replied. His heart sunk the more he thought about it. He continued, "I don't know how I could tell them. What did you do? If you told your family?"

"My mum knew when it happened to me what was going on. I have a little sister who we never told, but she figured it out when she got older," John said.

"What about your dad?" Brian asked.

John paused and closed his eyes. _I struck a chord, didn't I?_ Brian thought, _Oh god, I hope it isn't too touchy._

John opened his eyes again and stared at his water. He said in a low voice, "My dad is dead. Heart attack." 

A sharp ping of guilt shot through Brian's bones. "I'm so sorry to hear that," Brian said. 

"Don't be," John replied as he took a sip of water, "It happened years ago."

The mood of the table shifted in its silence and Brian felt uncomfortable. He felt like he just paraded across John's sacred land and talked about something that was taboo. 

Brian took a big gulp of his drink. "Are your family Lycans too?" he asked as he prayed that he didn't pry into John's sensitive subject any further, "I mean, I suppose that your sister isn't because you said she 'figured it out.'"

John's face lit up from the distraction and responded, "No, just me. Though, it can be hereditary from parent to child." 

Brian leaned forward in curiosity and John instinctively leaned a little back. 

"That's very interesting," Brian said in hopes that John could pick up on his lighter tone, "In the books I read, it could only be spread through a bite from an infected person to another, like you and me."

John relaxed and tilted his head. "Books? Oh, well, that's the way it is with other werewolves. They don't ever live long enough to have children of their own to pass it on," John said.

Brian furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "Why's that?"

John looked around the restaurant and leaned forward. "Hunters," he explained, "Other werewolves leave more of a paper trail, or blood trail really, than Lycans like us."

Brian shivered as he recalled his encounter with the hunters at Hyde Park. _'Human hearts... they kill until they are killed,'_ He remembered the lead hunter boasting from the hilltop as he read Brian's conviction. 

"The hunters that we ran into said that they feed on human hearts," Brian said barely above a whisper.

"Rumor is that the reason they feed on human hearts is that they are lacking one of their own," John said with a smirk, "Metaphorically speaking, of course."

Brian's eyes widened in horror. "Please tell me I won't do that," he begged, "I'm a vegetarian and frankly it's just flat out disturbing."

John shook his head and waved his hands. "What? No, no! That is strictly a not us thing," John shuddered, "That is part of their curse while our thing is more of a blessing." 

_Oh thank god,_ Brian thought as he let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. The smell of their food being prepared made his stomach growl and his face flushed from embarrassment. John looked down at his own stomach. _Oh dear, he thinks that was him,_ Brian thought.

"Erhm, where did you learn all of this?" Brian asked in the hope to bring the attention off of their hunger, "It isn't in any book that I've read." 

"Very rarely are Lycans turned nowadays. When word got out that I was turned and that I had nobody, an old Irish pack allowed me to stay with them for a while to sort things out over in Belfast," John explained, "I know what it's like to have nobody. I don't want you to go through the same."

Brian's heart warmed, but the moment was quickly ruined by his thoughts. _This is not the time to make amends. You need answers. That is what we are here for,_ he scolded himself. Then John's previous words hit him.

"A pack in Belfast? How many more of us are there?" Brian asked. 

John looked up at the ceiling and tilted his head back and forth like he was counting every Lycan he knew. Without looking back down, he responded, "There are about 100 Lycans in the world and most of them live in Ireland, though there are about a dozen that live in America and Canada. I am the only English one that I know, well, besides you. Meanwhile, for other werewolves, the number fluctuates between about 10,000 to 15,000, if I were to guess. Probably more, but very likely less." 

Brian's mouth opened in awe. "I can't believe I never knew," he said.

John looked back down and chuckled, "That is the goal for both supernatural hunters and monsters like us. Publicity would cause too much hysteria and a general headache."

"Monster? I'm not a monster!" Brian protested. 

"Well, you aren't exactly human anymore, are you?" John responded.

Brian opened his mouth to respond but couldn't think of anything to say. He sat back defeatedly in his chair. 

Sabrina the waitress walked over to their table and set down their food in front of them.

"One margarita pizza, and one angel hair with mushroom sauce," she said with a bright smile.

"Thank you," said the two Lycans in sync. They both gave each other a look. 

"No problem. I will be back later with your check," Sabrina said. As she walked to go serve another table, Brian and John's eyes followed her until they were leaning comfortably out of their seats.

They look back at each other and John cocks an eyebrow. Brian let out a stifled laugh and took a bite of his food.

His lunch was absolutely delicious. Everything about it screamed old family recipe and he and John nearly finished their meals before they spoke again. 

"So, John, you play bass," Brian said.

John hummed as he took another bite of his pizza. 

"Do you do anything else? Sing?" Brian asked.

John nearly spat out his food and covered his mouth with his hand. "Oh god, no! I can't sing," he said in-between chews, "I can play guitar, though. That's what I started out on. You?"

"Besides the guitar, I play the piano. Nothing like Freddie, though," Brian said as he twirled more pasta around his fork.

"Freddie's great, but can you believe that he thinks that he is only an intermediate player? I caught him playing the bloody thing upside down and he goes," John put his hands in the air and twirled them around and mocked in a funny voice only just barely resembling Freddie's, "'Oh darling! That is just me messing around. Completely beginner stuff, playing backward," and returned to his normal voice, "Oh, shut up."

Brian laughed, "How is it living with him? I know that you've only moved in for a couple of days, but knowing Freddie I'm sure that it has been an adventure."

John smiled and replied, "He's taken me under his wing. He tried this morning to make me cheese on toast, my favourite, for breakfast and I was like, 'Oh no, I've got it,' and I had to practically shoo him out of the kitchen."

 _Cheese on toast? What the hell kind of breakfast is that?_ Brian thought as he tried not to laugh. "Does he make good cheese on toast?" Brian asked as he tried to force the tips of his mouth down into a more serious expression. 

"It's okay if you like shit on a shingle. A little overdone, but it's getting there," John said.

Brian couldn't help but move his head back in shock. _I didn't expect him to swear,_ he thought, _though if he can swear, I can swear._ The two Lycans laughed. Brian took a sip of his water.

John suddenly asked, "What about at your and Roger's place? Freddie mentioned that you two were together."

Brian choked on his water and asked in a hoarse voice, "He did what? No, no. We don't live together. We aren't together in any way, shape, or form." 

"My bad," John apologized, "I thought you two were flatmates."

 _He must've thought that Freddie meant Roger and I were just living together instead of_ seeing _each other. That bastard, Freddie,_ Brian thought, _And how can John be so sarcastic yet so literal at the same time? It makes no sense._

They finish up their food and Brian has one last remaining question that burned in the back of his mind: who turned John? He noticed that John carefully tip-toed around the circumstances of his turning, ( _which would make sense if his experience was as traumatic as mine,_ Brian thought,) and failed to even hint about what happened.

Brian didn't even realize he was staring at John before the later asked, "What?"

_Shit._

"You don't have to answer this if you don't want to," Brian said carefully, "But who turned you? What happened?"

John clenched his jaw and slowly blinked. "A man who recently moved to the village. He left soon after he rejected me from his pack," John responded.

"I'm so sorry," Brian consoled. He had no idea what 'reject' meant in terms of pack life, but he knew it was important by John's attitude about it. _I wonder which arsehole thought it was a good idea to abandon a freshly turned Lycan teenager all by himself,_ Brian thought. Even though he still felt resentment toward John, he could tell that the heavy weight of rejection still pulled down on his shoulders. 

John sighed and said nonchalantly, "Yeah, well, it happens. I'm just lucky that the Belfast pack knew about me and looked after me when I needed it."

Brian felt worry trickle over his skin and he asked, "Does the Belfast pack know about me?"

"Eh," John started, "Not yet. We can send them a postcard or something later." 

Sabrina placed the bill on their table and John insisted on paying.

"Thank you for taking me out to lunch," Brian said as the two Lycans made their way to the door.

John patted his back and said, "Anytime, my little pup." 

Brian furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "Aren't I older than you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sammy's was named in this chapter after my friend's car, Sammy the Sequoia, which was named after Sam Winchester. Coincidently enough, I decided to name this chapter 'Spread Your Wings.' The waitress Sabrina was named after my car, Sabrina the Subaru.
> 
> And big information dump. Do you guys have any predictions?


	6. [The next full moon is] In Only Seven Days [or really actually one, but ya know, Queen song titles.]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Want to know Freddie's thoughts on John and the band?
> 
> The full moon is coming soon and Freddie might catch a case of the feels.
> 
> The Cowboy Song gets its first fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

POV Switch to Freddie

———∞◊∞———

Freddie hammered away at his piano. A riff has been taunting his head ever since John left to go eat lunch with Brian and he can't seem it get it out. It had first come to him in his sleep and he played it originally upside down on his piano because he was too tired to sit up properly. Whatever it was, it found its home in the key of A# Major and nuzzled its way into Freddie's mental record player on repeat. 

"You little bugger, you are going to be a hit one day, I just know it," Freddie murmured as the song danced through his house. 

His front door opened and closed. 

"Freddie!" John called.

"In the living room, my dear!" Freddie called back, "Playing on the piano." 

John stepped into the room red in his face. 

"My goodness, John. What happened? How was lunch?" Freddie asked.

The redness in John's face faded as he spoke, "Oh, yes, it went quite nice. Brian and I talked a bit and I think that he is starting to warm up to me." 

The tea kettle started to screech in the kitchen. John winced at the sound.

"Wonderful! I knew that taking you in would either end terribly bad or terribly good with little in-between, but I had great faith in the latter," Freddie said as he walked over to take the kettle off of the stove. _A risk that I felt so compelled to take,_ Freddie thought as he placed the kettle down on a rag cloth, _I can't leave an abandoned puppy out in the rain, can I? And certainly not one as adorable as this. I'd never forgive myself._

Freddie poured himself a cuppa and blew on it. He silently offered it to John, but his flatmate declined. 

"Freddie, you said that Brian and Roger were together," John stated as the redness in his cheeks returned, "Well, they are not, and I had to play stupid and innocent and pretend that I thought that they just lived together instead of being a couple."

Just as Freddie took a sip of tea, he laughed so hard that he launched the scorching drink out of his nose. The steaming tea burned every nook and cranny in his naval cavity before splattering out onto the tiled floor in front of him. 

"FUCKING HELL!" Freddie screamed in pain as he squeezed his nose with one hand and fanned it with another, "That bloody hurt! Shit!"

John busted out laughing and held his stomach as he doubled over. "Are you alright?" He managed to ask between giggling fits. 

Freddie answered in a nasal voice, "Does it look like I'm alright? Please tell me and use your eyes and maybe with your strong nose you can smell the boiled snot in my nose!"

John plopped down on the floor and continued giggling like a little kid. He didn't stop until he saw tears coming out of Freddie's eyes. He looked at Freddie quizzically. 

"I'm sorry that I offended you when I deep fried my nose hairs in English Breakfast," Freddie snapped. 

"Do you need anything?" John asked. 

_ What does it look like? _ Freddie thought. He answered, "A new fucking nose!" 

"I can't do that, but I can clean the tea off of the floor," John offered. 

"That will do," Freddie decided as he stopped squeezing his nose and began fanning his face with both hands.

John grabbed a cloth and rubbed up the hot tea on the ground as Freddie watched over him. _Such an angel. His mama raised him right,_ Freddie thought. 

"Do you think that your meeting with Brian went well enough today that we could have a band meeting with all four of us tomorrow?" Freddie asked.

John looked up from the floor and answered, "Yes, I think so. Besides, I forgot to talk to him about the next full moon."

Freddie froze and swallowed. "And when is that, darling?" He asked trying to hide his fear.

"Two nights from now," John replied.

_ That soon? _ Every voice in Freddie's head screamed, _Oh shit, this bloke doesn't have a good record with full moons. What have I done? Lord, I'm not ready to deal with this!_

Freddie smacked his lips together and said, "Well, I'll give Rog and Bri a ring."

"And write down Roger's number?" John asked.

"Why would I do that? You know from our previous discussion that writing his number down wouldn't really mean anything in the long run,"  Freddie said with a mischievous smirk.

"C'mon, Fred," John said as he stood up, "For practicality's sake, please."

Freddie rolled his eyes and wrote down Roger's number on the notepad by the phone. "I was joking, dear," he said, "No need to get your wolf tail in a twist." 

John playfully flashed his yellow glowing eyes at Freddie and said, "Thank you, mate." 

Freddie's heart fluttered for a moment. He smiled and said, "No problem, love." 

The next day when Roger and Brian walked into the flat at the same time, Freddie couldn't help but wiggle his eyebrows at John who softly shook his head. 

"Roger! Brian!" Freddie greeted with open arms, "Ready to go through some songs?"

"Ready, Freddie!" Roger responded with a cheeky grin. 

Brian sat down on Freddie's couch and read aloud the song title of his newest project, "Mad the Swine." 

"Sorry?" Freddie asked as he sat down at his piano.

"Oh, it's good. Tell him the first words, Brian," Roger teased from behind his drums. 

"'I came here before— a long time ago, but this time — I wore no sandals,'" Brian read.

Freddie coughed into his hand in an effort to hide his laughter. "Excuse me, but what on earth is this song about?"

"The second coming of Christ," Brian answered. 

"And I get to use the cowbell," Roger added with a grin. He tapped out a little jingle on the cowbell and then on the toms. He asked, "That goes after the verse. How does it sound?"

Freddie blinked a few times to process what he just heard. "It's interesting, but let's do it," he said. John gave him a worried look and he shrugged. 

"Might as well have fun with it. We have nothing to lose," Freddie said. 

John plucked a few notes on his bass guitar and asked, "Are there any other songs?"

Brian tilted his head and asked, "Are you saying you don't like it?"

Freddie pursed his lip and wished he had popcorn to munch on.

John defended, "No, no. I just liked the way that the," he paused for a moment and to think, "the way the sound of the drums move from the cowbell to the rest of them."

"The moving sound?" Freddie asked with an arched eyebrow. 

"Yeah," John said, this time sounding more confident.

"What if we took pieces of the drums and had them playing on different sides, eh?" Brian suggested.

"Ooh, that would be good," Freddie purred, "But you know what would be even better?" 

"What?" Roger asked as he twirled a drumstick in his hand.

"What if we did that with our voices?" Freddie answered.

Roger asked, "How would we do that? By turning our heads left and right?" 

"No, you idiot. We bounce the sound in a recording studio," Freddie said as he rolled his eyes.

Brian groaned, "Fred, we don't have a recording studio to go to."

"It'd be harder to find a recording studio that would let us use it than getting to the place we need to go using Freddie's directions," Roger laughed.

John looked at Freddie and Freddie ducked his head in embarrassment. _I figured out that I was holding the map the wrong way when I realized all the street names were upside down,_ Freddie wanted to say. 

"But Roger, if I remember correctly, the long drive to Hompy Bong was because you kept ignoring them," Brian commented. 

"John, listen to me," Roger said. John snapped his head to look at him, and Roger continued, "This happened about a month ago, yeah? Last full moon. This prick had the bloody map upside down telling me to go down to Brighton by the beach when I should've been going up toward Leicester!" 

"I'm sorry that you didn't like my idea of a preemptive expedition of the seven seas," Freddie japed. _Sod it_ _. I'm going to write a song about going to the sea,_ Freddie thought.

John stood up with his bass and waved his hands to get everyone's attention. "Speaking of, The next full moon is tomorrow night. Do we have a plan?" he asked the room.

"I've been going to Hyde Park," Brian said, "It is mostly deserted at night and gives you enough room to run around."

Freddie gasped, "Hyde Park? _The_ Hyde Park? The park where we almost got shot up by a bunch of hunters and were practically chased out by the police?" 

"I don't think that there is another Hyde Park, Freddie," John whispered.

"No, no, no. Absolutely not! Two werewolves running around will surely double your chance of being caught!" Freddie continued.

"You should have thought about that before you invited him to stay," Roger retorted.

Freddie scoffed, "Who is to say that I didn't?" 

"Brian, are you sure that Hyde Park is safe for us?" John questioned. 

Brian answered, "Yes, I'm sure. I've been there almost every night." 

Roger raised his eyebrows. "Even since the incident?" he asked.

Before Brian could answer, Freddie interrupted, "Think very carefully about your answer, young man."

"Yes,I have," Brian responded, "And I've been fine."

"And here we are thinking that I was the reckless and inconsiderate one when you have been galavanting across the place where we almost got killed," Freddie roared, "A place where hunters know you to be." 

Brian buried his face in his hands and said, "It is the biggest park this side of London and it just so happens to be right by my house." 

"And he made a den there, remember?" Roger added. Freddie gave him a look. _Don't you dare encourage him!_ he thought.

Brian, Roger, and Freddie looked to John for his opinion. 

"Considering our circumstances," John spoke, "I believe that it would be best if Brian and I go to Hyde Park for the full moon. I take your concerns under consideration, Freddie, but I don't know where else we could easily go. I am also sure that you don't want a werewolf under the full moon ravaging through your flat." 

Brian relaxed, but Freddie stood with his mouth agape. 

"Now that's settled, shall we carry on with the song?" Roger suggested. 

Freddie clapped his hands together and said, "If that's what pleases you, sweethearts." 

_I swear they are going to be the reason why my hair will be all grey by the time I'm thirty,_ Freddie thought as the rest of the band started going over the instrumental parts of Brian's song. The song only got stranger, but Brian used John's amp with his guitar which created a unique sound that was unlike anything Freddie had ever heard. _This right here,_ Freddie thought, _is the beginning of something._

_ ———∞◊∞——— _

The next morning, John stumbled out of his bedroom late in the afternoon. His long dark mouse-colored was tangled like a rat's nest and his shirt was on inside out. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week.

"Your cheese on toast is on the counter, dear," Freddie said from the kitchen table.

John quickly snatched his food off of its plate and wolfed it down without ever looking at his flatmate. He went to the refrigerator to get the cheese to make more, and Freddie watched as Tom stroked up against John's leg to say hello. 

John looked down at the cat and a low warning growl rumbled from deep in his throat. Tom got the message and ran away into the other room. John continued to rummage through the refrigerator and grunted in frustration. 

"Can't find the cheese?" Freddie asked not expecting an answer, "Want some help?" 

Freddie walked over to the refrigerator and stood next to John. "Ah, yes, here it is," Freddie said as he grabbed the cheese.

John glared at him dead in the eye with a savage expression and dangerous wild eyes. The same low rumbling growl rolled out of his throat. 

"Okay. I'll put the cheese down and go sit back down," Freddie said barely above a whisper. When he sat back down at the kitchen table, he let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. _I feel like I just narrowly escaped a wild animal attack,_ Freddie thought. Then he remembered. 

"Full moon's tonight, innit?" Freddie asked.

John delicately placed the cheese on the counter with shaking hands and nodded. 

Freddie didn't know what to say, so John simply made another batch of cheese toast in silence. Freddie watched him intently. The Lycan's movements were stiff and bordered unnatural. The faintest movement from Freddie made John pause and listen. When the toaster popped out his bread, John jumped backward in fear. He then took the toast out of the machine with shakey hands and looked at Freddie.

Freddie pretended that he didn't see anything and picked up the newspaper. 

John eventually stood on the opposite end of the table as his flatmate and ate the new batch of cheese on toast almost as quickly as the first one.

John mumbled something and walked into the living room.

"Sorry?" Freddie asked.

"I said, 'Thank you for the food,'" John replied from the back wall of the living room. 

Freddie furrowed his eyebrows. He pondered, _What is he doing back there? There is nothing interesting except a few of my sketches._ He then heard a soft thud. 

Freddie grumbled under his breath, "Ya Allah," and got up to see what John was doing.

When he went into the living room, he found John rubbing his shoulder on the wall. His eyes followed John as his flatmate completely ignored his presence and rubbed his wrists on Roger's drum kit, the amps, and even Freddie's piano.

"What are you doing?" Freddie asked. 

"Since I'm not leaving, might as well," John answered. He jumped onto Freddie's couch and rolled around on it like a puppy. When he got up, his hair was standing on end from the static. 

Freddie inquired, "Which is?" 

"I hope you don't mind," John said. He walked over to Freddie and rubbed his shoulder on him. Freddie stumbled back against a wall. _Christ! I didn't know how strong he was!_ Freddie thought. Freddie patted John's back. John stepped back and smiled at Freddie.

"D-did you just scent mark me?" Freddie stammered. He was feeling a whirlwind of emotions, all of which he could not name but one.

John simply nodded in response and prowled into the kitchen. "I can hear your heartbeat going faster than normal," he said without turning back to look at Freddie, "I promise everything is going to be okay." 

Freddie leaned back against the wall and asked, "Are you saying that to me or to yourself?" 

John didn't respond. 

Freddie clutched the fabric of his shirt over his chest. _Can he really hear my heartbeat?_ Freddie wondered, _What else can he read off me?_

Something caught John's eye out the front window and he lept over a sleeping Jerry to investigate. He watched an old couple and their granddaughter walk across the street with his lip twitching up into a snarl.

 _Maybe the hunters were right,_ Freddie thought, _maybe I just invited a killer into my house._

As soon as the family was out of eyesight, John started pacing around the house, refusing to stay in one room for more than a few minutes. He shook out his limbs and groaned.

"I'm just ready to get it over with, you know?" John told Freddie who filled the cat's food bowls, "The first full moon in a new territory is always the worst. They get better after you get more used to the environment." 

Freddie didn't know how to respond. "I'm sorry you have to go through this, darling," he mustered. 

"Don't be. You didn't cause this," John said. He offered Freddie a sorrowful smile and went back to his room, pausing a few times in his steps.

 _He probably just heard my heart flutter,_ Freddie smirked to himself. 

Painful silence filled the flat without an anxious werewolf strolling about. It wasn't long before the mysterious piano riff danced the Fandango around Freddie's brain again.

Freddie crept to the piano and sat down and pressed firmly down on the soft pedal. _Don't want to hurt John's ears,_ Freddie thought, _or get eaten for being too loud._

He started to play the riff on the piano and wondered what would go with it. Then another companionless piece of music popped into his head. _Perfect,_ he thought.

"Mama, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he's dead," Freddie sang. The thought of how John and Brian were turned against their wills and had to throw all of their great expectations away crashed into the front of Freddie's mind.

"Mama, their lives had just begun," Freddie sang, "But now it's gone and all thrown away." 

He paused. _It is m_ _issing something,_ he thought. He tried the riff again with lower notes to add depth and sang the last verse again. _That solved the mood problem, but something is still off,_ he decided.

"Mama, mama, ma-ma-ma," he mumbled to himself. He counted the beats of the words in the lyrics. _The last verse was off,_ he figured.

Freddie tried again, "Mama, life had just begun, but now I've gone and thrown it all away."

 _That's it!_ Freddie thought. He resisted the urge to holler out in victory. 

He plays the riff and instead sings out, "Mama, ooo!" 

Freddie felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder and he jumped. He looked up and saw John dazed and staring at the piano.

"John?" Freddie quaked. 

"A-again," John stuttered, "Please, please. It h-helping..." 

Freddie's eyes widened. _Poor chap is losing the ability to speak!_ Freddie thought, _I remember Brian lamenting to me about this._

"Alright, love. Here it comes again," Freddie said.

He played the riff and sang along. To his surprise, John joined in for the 'Mama, ooo,' but his voice was hoarse and uncontrolled.

John pointed at his bass and raised his eyebrows.

Freddie smiled and said, "Be my guest."

John grabbed his bass and threw its strap over his shoulder. As he tuned the instrument, he slowly blinked, and violently shook his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and pounded on his head with the base of his palm. 

"John?" Freddie asked, "Are you alright? You don't have to say anything. Just nod or shake your head."

John put his bass down. He looked at Freddie in despair and shook his head. He pounded on his head once last time and stormed off to his room (though gently closing the door.) 

Freddie's heart breaks for him. _I bet his mind is playing tricks on him or something,_ Freddie thought, _the poor boy. Spare him his life from his monstrosity._

He started to play his song again, his little baby that he'd been trying to nurture and grow for the past several years, in hope that it would help the man he just tried growing it with. He heard John's bedroom door open and he blissfully waited for John's presence to be next to him, but then he heard the front door open and close. 

_It's time,_ Freddie thought as a dreadful shiver raced down his spine. 

Freddie got up from his piano and a little piece of paper left on his kitchen counter caught his eye.

He picked it up and discovered that it was a note written in shaky handwriting that was near illegible.

"Going to park. Will be back morning. Sorry for being weird. John," Freddie read aloud.

Jerry hopped up onto the table and purred.

"He's something, isn't he, dears?" Freddie asked his cat. 

Jerry meowed.

"Precisely." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recognize the songs? (Bonus points if you guess all three referenced!) 😉
> 
> How do you feel about Freddie's interaction with John?
> 
> And are you ready for Roger's POV next chapter?


	7. [Roger's got] '39 [Problems and Brian is every single one of them]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You previously got two big ol' chapters, so now you get a little baby chapter.
> 
> Roger calls his mum for her birthday.
> 
> He ends the night screaming into a pillow (literally.) 
> 
> (Low key Teen Wolf -the show, not the 80s movie with Michael J Fox- vibes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

Switch to Roger's POV

———∞◊∞———

Roger watched what he assumed was the full moon rise across the London sky. The sky was cloudy and the only indication of a moon was a faintly lighter patch of cloud that was almost completely illuminated by street lamps. Nothing about the atmosphere screamed fit for a couple of Lycans to run about, especially between the smog replacing fresh woodland air and the concrete jungle replacing an open field or trees. 

Roger had more things to worry about than his bandmates running around 'Attempted Murder Park,' as he liked to call it, as giant rabid animals. For instance, it was his mother's birthday and he had not called her yet to wish her a happy birthday. And there are a few reasons as to why.

He gingerly crept over to the telephone and dialed in the number of his parent's home. He watched with anticipation as the dial satisfyingly spun back into place after every number. Roger placed the phone to his ear and took a deep breath.

"Taylor residence. Who is this?" a female voice answered. 

"Hello, Mum. It's Roger. I'm calling from my flat in London to wish you a Happy Birthday," Roger answered with a faint smile. _And_ _to distract me from the circumstances of the full moon,_ Roger mentally added. 

Roger could feel the joy radiating off of his mother. "Michael! Clare! Roger is on the phone," her muffled voice called to his father and sister, "I told you he would call!"

Roger's shoulders dropped. _Did they really think I wasn't going to call?_ he wondered. 

The other line crackled and another voice came to the phone, "Roger? How are you doing, son?"

"Good, Dad, really good," Roger replied, "And yourself?"

His father replied, "I am doing well. Oh! Clare wants to talk to you!"

"Oh, okay," Roger said. _They do realize I called Mum for her birthday, right?_

"Roger!" Clare's voice boomed over the phone's speaker, "Roger, guess what!"

Roger humoured her, "What?"

"I've got a boyfriend."

"Sorry? Absolutely not! Is even Dad okay with this?" Roger gasped.

"Yes," Clare replied. Roger could see her cheeky grin over the phone and his face grew red with anger.

"Well, I'm not. Who is this bloke, anyway?" Roger demanded, "How do we know he has good intentions for you, hm?"

"I met him at school," Clare answered, "And he is good, don't worry."

The line crackled again and his mother spoke into the phone, "It's so sweet that you worry about her. It makes my heart grow three sizes." 

His sister's quiet voice said further away from the phone, "It's because he knows there are guys like him out there."

"Clare!" their mother scolded. 

_No,_ Roger thought, _she's right._

"So Roger, how is your band doing?" his mother asked, "Are you still drumming in it? And how is Freddie? I miss that boy. He's such a delight."

"Freddie is doing well. We found a bassist— if you remember we just recently found a guitarist— who is now living with Fred. He's from Hompy Bong Village, coincidently the same place where our guitarist got bit by a dog pretty bad," Roger responded.

She asked, "Brian? That's his name, isn't it? of the guitarist?"

"Yes, mum," Roger replied as he played with the phone cord.

"And what is the bassist called?"

"John."

"I'm sure Freddie loves John living with him. I recall him hating to be alone."

"You have no idea," Roger laughed, "But it could have just been our family."

"How so?" his mother asked, though she knew Roger's response.

"My cousin with who knew how to hotwire a torpedo? Or your grandmother flirting with him?" she giggled. 

Roger thought for a moment. _Maybe I can learn something from this conversation,_ He thought. He smirked, "How about my cousins who think they descend from werewolf hunters?"

"Oh, sweetie, didn't I tell you? On that side of the family, you know, your granduncle's, we come from a long line of Meddows werewolf hunters," his mum replied.

Roger froze. 

"As crazy as it seems," she continued, "It was still largely in practice until fairly recently. If I remember correctly, it only properly phased out when my father was a boy." 

"Really?" Roger quaked as reality set in. 

"It was sort of the family honor and tradition back in the dark ages. Silly thing, I know," his mother responded.

Roger winced at the thought of his ancestors hunting along the sides of the sods from Hompy Bong. His family honor was to hunt down people like Brian and John, even if there was a supposed difference between Lycans and other werewolves. Just the thought of it made Roger feel nauseous. 

His mother interrupted his thoughts, "Enough family talk. I am so glad to hear your voice." 

"Thank you. And you too," Roger said. 

"Have you found any girls?" His mother asked.

The question hit Roger in the chest like a car with failed breaks. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.

His mother pressured, "Like the one you scaled two stories to get in her dorm room for? I read that letter you sent to Clare. Real classy, my boy."

 _First off, it was really impressive,_ Roger corrected in his head.

"You were snooping?" he questioned his mum.

She laughed and responded, "After that stunt you two pulled with your father's car back in the day, I can't trust you."

Roger stammered like he couldn't get the words out fast enough, "It was her idea and I was a better driver than half the people on the road!"

"I'm sure you were when you could see over the steering wheel and when you didn't have an ice-cream cone in one hand," she teased back.

They laughed together and Roger's stomach settled. 

"Are you sure you don't have your eye on anyone?" his mum asked one last time.

"Yes. Bye, mum. Tell Dad and Clare that I love them. I love you and I hope you have a happy birthday," Roger said.

"Goodnight, dear. I love you too," she responded.

Roger hung up the phone. He paced around his flat for a moment, unable to sit still with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

He looked at the clock that hung above the phone. _Well, that looks like an hour past Roger-needs-to-go-to-bedtime,_ Roger thought. 

He walked over to the window to shut the curtains. _Don't want a creep being able to look in here,_ he thought to himself. He took one last look at the foggy blob that was supposed to be the moon and prayed a silent prayer. He shut the curtains in one brisk motion and almost tripped when he turned around.

Roger went into his room with the thoughts of the past two weeks prancing around his head like a parade pony. He let himself fall face-first onto his bed, and he screamed into his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've all been there with Roger, haven't we?
> 
> (Meant to ask this earlier, but who do you guys think turned John? And how did his mum know what was going on when he was turned? And could it call have a connection to other incidents in Hompy Bong Forest? *hint- YES!)


	8. [John needs to shift and go back home before he is caught] Sleeping on the Sidewalk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and John run around in Hyde Park. John remembers what it is like to be in a pack.
> 
> They shift back to human.
> 
> John and Freddie chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

Switch to John's POV

———∞◊∞———

Shifting, in John's opinion, was like getting into a shower. One never looks forwards to it and sees it as an inconvenience, but once one gets in, they don't want to get out. John would dread the shift, but after it happened he would almost always have an absolute blast.

His first full moon in London was no different. 

He loped through the trees of Hyde Park as Brian showed him their pack territory. It was not near as beautiful, peaceful, or natural as Hompy Bong Forest, but it was the best that London could offer. For instance, Hompy Bong Forest had loads flora and fauna variation while Hyde Park offered close to none in comparison. However, Hyde was free of animal traps and campers while Hompy Bong Forest seemed full of them. It seemed that the only thing the two places had in common was the fowl memories associated with them.

The Lycans played across the hills, chasing each other around like puppies. _Funny that we never got along this well in human form,_ John thought. Brian was faster than John with his long legs, but John was more agile and change directions in a flash of lightning. 

Once they tired each other out from the chase, Brian paraded John down a hill and behind a rock. John recognized the sight immediately and pushed past the larger wolf to marvel at the neat and tidy wolf den. He pawed at one of the walls and looked back at Brian who beamed with pride. John wagged his tail, _Very good, pup. Excellent job._

Brian led John along a trail and the two shivered at the stale smell of the hunters and their silver weapons. They trotted far away from the smell of danger towards the Long Water. John was tempted to go splashing in the pond, but he knew that he would smell horrible afterward.

There was a colony of squirrels that taunted his very existence by the pond. He hunted a particular rodent bugger down and had it in his mouth, ready to kill. Brian nipped at John's ankle causing John to yelp in pain and release the squirrel. His prey ran up a tree and almost immediately started teasing him again from above.

John snarled and snapped at Brian. _You lost food!_ he growled.

Brian bared his teeth back, _It was an innocent living creature!_

The smaller wolf lunged at Brian and the two wrestled on the ground until they pushed themselves away from each other.

_ A tie, _ John decided. Brian dipped his head in agreement.

They walked back to Brian's den. A foreign smell hit John's nose, a smell of two people. Brian's hackle raised as they approached his den and the human noise grew louder. They prowled along the treeline to get a better look at their invaders.

To John's horror, the intruders were a couple of teenagers shagging in Brian's den. Brian snarled from the trees and his eyes lit up like a match. John stepped in front of him and nudged him with his shoulder.

_ Let it be, _ John grunted. 

Brian gave John a pleading look. John nudged him one more time and Brian yielded. 

The pair adventured to the southern tip of the Serpentine. John cautiously eyed the rooftops of the buildings only a short run away, but Brian urged him on. Something about Brian's presence made John feel safer and bolder, almost like he belonged.

John had missed the camaraderie of Lycan pack life. He hadn't experienced such a luxury since 1966, the day he was rejected by the wolf that turned him. As a social creature, he felt lost while he was alone. After he turned Brian, even though he was on accident, he felt like he found someone. Even though he was far away from the house in which he grew up, he felt at home. 

The sky started to grey and the Lycans felt their inevitable shift back to human starting. They bid each other goodbye and went to separate secluded areas where they left their clothes to shift. Shifting to Lycans is a very personal and vulnerable thing, and John had never known anyone to willingly shift in front of another individual.

John first felt his back legs forcibly elongate and he faceplanted into the ground as he crawled back behind the bush where his clothes where.

He shook his head to get the dirt off his face, but this triggered another reaction. His skull moved and clicked around to rearrange itself. All of the plates in his head snapped into place like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. His eardrums felt like they were going to pop as his ear canal changed place on either side of his head.

His eyes sharpened like he held a magnifying glass up to his face. He looked around himself and saw the details return to the small leaves on the bush and the flecks of shiny mud beneath his paws. 

The scent of the trees around him returned back to their heightened normal while the taste of squirrel blood overwhelmed his mouth. John coughed and gagged until he vomited a little.

His fangs shrank up into human teeth and squeezed together in a smaller mouth. His tongue felt claustrophobic and folded up into the size appropriate for human proportions.

Human skin bubbled over his wolf fur and his paws elongated into hands and feet.

He clawed at the earth beneath him the last of his bones clicked back into place.

Finally, it was over.

John looked up at the lightening sky and stood up on his hind legs.

A small breeze wisped over him, making him shiver, and awareness set in.

He was stark naked in the middle of a public park in the nation's capital. 

_Oh no, oh no, oh no,_ he thought as he scooped up his pants and furiously put them on. 

He prayed as he pulled up his trousers, _Please no one see me, please no one see me._

John slid on his shirt and jacket. He glanced around and saw no one but a few birds sitting atop a tree.

He muttered aloud, "Thank you."

———∞◊∞———

Back at his and Freddie's flat, John made breakfast as the clock in the living room slowly clicked past 7:30. The flat was unusually quiet this early in the morning. John was used to the band making a noise loud enough to earn a complaint from the neighbors or at the very least the calming sound of Tom and Jerry purring as Freddie pet them. John didn't bother turning on the lights and instead let the natural light of the morning trickle in from the living room. He felt at peace. To him, it was almost like the night was just a dream.

The smell of eggs and sausage filled the kitchen and his stomach growled. 

_You almost ate a live squirrel,_ he told himself. His stomach growled again in retaliation. 

The floorboards of the flat creaked and John turned around to smile at his flatmate who finally stumbled out of bed.

Freddie gasped and fell backward onto the wall and clenched his shirt.

"Darling, you almost gave me a heart attack!" he scolded. He straightened out his pajamas and his face flushed pink.

"I'm sorry," John said, "I'm making breakfast, eggs and sausage. Do you want some?" 

"What is wrong with the way I do it?" Freddie jabbed with a playful smirk. 

John piled some eggs and sausage onto a plate and put it on the kitchen table. John went back to the stove and made himself a plate. Freddie sat down and tapped the rim of the table.

"How was last night?" Freddie asked. The words left his mouth unnaturally like he was debating as to whether or not to ask.

John titered his head back and forth and replied, "Always lovely to essentially wake up naked in a public park." 

Freddie took a bite of his sausage and said, "Indeed. I find it freeing and evidence of a good night out." 

John's eyes widened. _Excuse me?_ He thought. He didn't know where to look and plopped down in his chair across from Freddie. 

"And Brian? Did you two duel to become alpha male?" Freddie asked with a cocked eyebrow. 

"No. That's an _other_ werewolf thing," John responded ignoring what Freddie insinuated, "Though, I think we got into a fight over a squirrel." 

Freddie choked on his food and pounded on his chest with his fist. "You're kidding," he croaked out. 

"Nope. One of the reasons I don't like being a wolf in front of people is because I'm an idiot," John said. He shuddered at the memory of his sister walking in on him in wolf form barking at his reflection in the mirror for an hour. He didn't even want to think about what could have resulted if Brian didn't stop him from eating the squirrel. 

"Where is Brian now?" Freddie asked, "Did everything go alright with him?"

"Back at his place. The whole morning is foggy, but I remember him heading back home," John answered.

A series of loud meows filled the kitchen as Tom and Jerry made their grand entrance. 

"Good morning, kitties," Freddie cooed, "Do you want some breakfast yourself?"

Tom mewed and rubbed up against a table chair leg.

Freddie stood up and replied, "Yes, yes, dear. Getting up and getting your food as we speak."

John laughed. _Freddie is like a little butler for these cats,_ he thought.

"What? Can you understand what he is saying?" Freddie asked, "Is that some sort of Lycan thing?"

John fought the urge to facepalm. "That would be wicked and I wish, but no. It is just sweet."

"Oh?" Freddie asked. His face flushed and he fumbled behind the counter to get the cat food.

"Reminds me of how mum talks to our family dog," John said. 

Freddie smiled shamelessly showing off his unique teeth. His expression softened and he said, "Sorry about all the questions darling. I feel that I am still getting used to having a supernatural flatmate." 

"It's fine. This is a learning process for all of us," John replied. He wolfed down the rest of his breakfast and Freddie gently placed down the cats' food bowls. 

"You know what, Fred?" John asked.

"Hm?" Freddie responded as he sat back down at the table.

"We stumbled upon two teenagers shagging in Brian's den," John said. 

Freddie slammed his hands down on the table in disbelief and amusement glimmered in his eyes.

"No!" he giggled, "Seems there were multiple kinds of wild animal activity in Hyde last night." 

They laughed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some important puzzle pieces can be found in this chapter for the Ultimate Endgame of this fic. (Notice the date!!)
> 
> Sidenote- I've never seen a popular depiction of a werewolf's shift back to human, or at least not one that mirrors the shift to a wolf. Let me know if you like this concept or if you have seen/heard of a good wolf-to-human shift!
> 
> Sorry that I was late updating again. Hopefully, the next chapter can make it up to you!


	9. [Thanks to Freddie's] Impromptu [Decision, Brian is out van shopping with Roger.]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murders in Brighton.
> 
> Roger has to trade in his car.
> 
> (Murders in London as a result?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

Switch to Roger's POV

———∞◊∞———

Freddie's flat was like an escape for Roger. If his car was the means to get him somewhere to escape his stress, then Freddie's flat was the destination.

Semester exams haunted Roger like a shadowy villain. His pre-dentistry course was kicking his ass and he considered dropping out of the dentistry program completely. _The English don't really care about their teeth anyway,_ he told himself, _so what is even the point?_

His biology class, which he considered his pre-dentistry course's less-evil twin, gave him more questions than answers in how living things worked. Just thinking about cellular respiration made him feel like his first-class honours were slipping through his fingers. 

He on the floor in Freddie's living room with all his textbooks and notecards spread around him like a tornado went through and Tom made a nest on one of his binders. John was in the kitchen trying to show Freddie how to turn on the oven and Brian sat on the couch reading his astronomy book.

Even though he didn't act like it, grades were very important to Roger. He was determined to perform at his absolute best in every class, especially now that he is in a band with Brian _fucking_ May. Brian, even with being in a rock n' roll band and a Lycan, was the top of all of his classes. Roger couldn't help but compare himself to him, the man who was not only smart but also talented, loved by everyone, and good looking. _How the hell am I going to get on his level?_ _He's too perfect,_ Roger thought as he glanced at his bandmate.

Roger dramatically flipped open his biology textbook earning a confused stare from Brian.

"Genetic mutation, I remember this," Roger mumbled as he tried to ignore Brian's look.

He skimmed over the chapter and came across a paragraph that he circled several times in his initial read-through, a paragraph that made him smile about the memory of the night that came with it.

"Genetic mutation is not willed by an organism; it is completely random. Furthermore, it cannot cause an organism to developed fantastical powers like the X-Men. This could be done through magic, but that, of course, doesn't exist," he read aloud. 

Brian grunted in agreement. 

"Say, John? Is that why you and Brian became Lycans?" Roger called to the kitchen, "Through magic?"

There was a short pause and John shouted back, "Eh, I guess so. Why?" 

"Studying," Roger answered. He drew an arrow from the paragraph to the margin and wrote 'See Lycanthropy.' 

"Roger, darling, what on earth are you studying if it has to deal with that? Perhaps you should take a break," Freddie suggested. Something started beeping in the kitchen and John sighed loudly before turning it off. 

"Biology," Roger laughed. He looked up to see if Brian would also take a break, but his poodle hair was buried in the pages of his own study. 

"C'mon, dear," Freddie insisted, "I've got the paper on the table if you want to do a puzzle or look at the little cartoons."

Roger rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Fine." 

He half walked half stomped into the kitchen and plopped down at the table. John continued to instruct Freddie on how to safely use the oven, but Roger could tell that from Freddie's stargazed expression that John's words went in one ear and out the other. The drummer prayed that Freddie's daydreaming wouldn't result in a burnt flat. 

Roger snapped back into focus. He snatched the morning paper and thought to himself as he flipped through the news stories, _I'll show you 'puzzles and cartoons.'_

On the third page, Roger's eyes froze on a peculiar headline. He brought the paper closer to his face to make sure that his poor eyes read it correctly. 

"Animal Attacks: Two More Added to the Ever-Growing List," he read aloud in shock.

John titled his head and asked, "Sorry?"

"C'mon and look at this, mates," Roger said. Brian got up from the couch and gently set down his book. Roger waved him on in urgency and Brian raised his eyebrows in surprise. Brian stood behind Roger and leaned over his shoulder to get a look at the story. Freddie and John joined him at his sides.

Roger continued reading, "Brighton. Gruesome animal attacks, people ripped apart, organs missing..." 

Brian gasped, "Oh, that's terrible!" 

"Seems that they think that it is an escaped lion or something from a circus, but that doesn't make any sense," Roger said.

"Poor lion. They are always so cruel to animals," Brian sulked.

Freddie retorted, "Poor lion? People are dead!"

"It's probably a serial killer," John guessed under his breath, "Like all the ones in America."

Freddie face-palmed and exclaimed, "Bloody hell! And I was about to tell you all that I booked us a few gigs down there." 

The room paused and John, Roger, and Brian stared at Freddie.

Brian asked, "You did what?" 

"Without telling us?" Roger added.

Freddie took a step back from the group. "It was supposed to be a surprise. We're booked in half a dozen places from London down to the beach starting at Imperial College," Freddie defended, "I only just got confirmation this morning."

"Are you joking? I swear to god, Fred, if you are joking, I am going to through you out a bloody window," Roger threatened. 

Freddie shook his head. Without a word, Roger bolted up from his chair and gave Freddie a hug. John and Brian joined in and Roger found himself engulfed in the arms of his bandmates. They jumped up and down like a group of school children.

Roger cheered, "Oh my god, Freddie! We did it! We are going on tour!" 

"Queen is going on tour!" Freddie sang, "We need a tour van!"

Roger stopped jumping and the others stared at him.

"What's wrong with the cars we got?" he asked. 

Freddie replied, "Well, we can't fit everyone and everything all in your car, can we, dear?"

"It'd be more like the other bands when they travel around," Brian agreed. 

A sly smile crept across Freddie's face. _That bastard,_ Roger thought, _he is up to something now._

"You and Brian can go get us a van while John and I make a cake to celebrate," Freddie suggested. 

John agreed, "Cake sounds good."

Roger rolled his eyes and said, "Fine. Brian and I will try to find a van. No guarantees that we will have it today. I don't even know where to find a van."

"Good luck," Freddie purred before turning his attention to John with a cheeky grin.

Roger flicked him off and marched out to his car grumbling, "Fucking Bulsara." 

He got in his car, his baby, and started the engine. Brian climbed in next to him in the front passenger seat and flipped on the radio. Roger pulled out of his parallel parking spot and into the London traffic on Freddie's street. 

"Can't believe we just got kicked out to go looking for a van," Roger laughed.

"Are we sure that we should be going on a tour down there?" Brian grimaced, "I mean, think about it."

"What?" Roger asked as he cut a car off. 

"Animal attacks, organs missing, the full moon was just the other night, and there is no logical reason why it would be an escaped lion. Someone would've reported it, surely" Brian said as he counted his fingers.

Roger slammed on his breaks before a stoplight and Brian almost face-planted into the dashboard. "Are you thinking its a werewolf?" Roger asked. 

"Could you not do that? You are going to give us whiplash," Brian growled, "And yes, it could be a possibility." 

The light turned green and Roger made a sharp left. Brian gripped the side of his seat like he was in a rocket ship that was about to launch and Roger winced at the idea of his claws tearing into the fabric. Roger looked over to Brian's worried face and his heart fluttered at the sight of the guitarist's puppy eyes. 

"Oh, don't talk yourself out of it. This could be our big break!" Roger comforted, "Besides, it could just be a serial killer like John said." 

Brian rubbed the bridge of his nose and laughed, "I hate that it all being murderer is the better alternative." 

"Then what? A poor lion?"

"Roger, you know what I meant." 

"Jesus Christ, Bri. Take a joke, will ya?" Roger teased.

Brian playfully shoved Roger's shoulder. Roger wasn't ready for the Lycan's strength and he nearly steered into an adjacent truck. _Shit, he's strong,_ Roger thought as he corrected his car's direction. Brian smiled at him and Roger couldn't help but blush. 

He ducked his head in embarrassment and murmured, "I think that there is a car shop up around here. Maybe we'll find something."

Brian's facial expression dropped and he said, "I didn't mean to get you that hard, Rog. I'm sorry."

Roger pursed his lips and thought, _Well, when you say it like that..._ He replied, "Don't worry about it. We've got a van to find and a tour to go on." 

Brian slumped back in his seat. "Freddie's so lucky that he already graduated. This tour is going to be a pain in the arse to fit around exams," Brian lamented.

"We'll have to go right after or something. May even have to reschedule one or two," Roger said as he pulled into an old run-down car shop. He parked his car and the two hopped out. 

Roger's eyes darted to a sign pointing to the back of the building labeled, 'CARS FOR SALE.'

"Looks like the ones for sale are around back," Brian said. 

Roger brushed past him and back behind the building. The clip-clop of Brian's clogs followed him along the pathway. Behind the car shop were lines of old cars, trucks, and vans that took up every inch of space in the lot. Water from the morning rain pooled on their windows and their tires were muddy from constant re-arranging in the unpaved yard. A few other people weaved through the lines of cars looking for something to buy.

A man in a mechanic's uniform sat down in a chair behind a desk. He covered in grease and his grey hair looked half-washed. He had steel blue eyes and a big nose. The man asked, "What are ye doin' 'er?"

 _Who does he think he is? We are his customers!_ Roger thought. He opened his mouth to respond but Brian raised his hand to stop him.

"Looking for a van. This is the place where they are for sale, right?" Brian asked.

"Aye," the mechanic said, "Do ye need help?" 

"No sir, I think we can handle this ourselves," Roger retorted.

"If ye find one you like, call Jimmy. I'll be right over," the man replied. He flipped open a book titled _T_ _he Two Towers_ on his desk and soon became engrossed in its story.

 _What a funny little man,_ Roger thought. 

Brian walked up to a black van and slapped its hood. "What about this one?" he asked.

Roger was unimpressed. The van looked ordinary and dull, directly contrasting the narrative of Queen. 

"Seems a little, I dunno, boring," Roger replied, "We should do something with a more interesting color like a bright red or blue or green. Maybe even something with a design on it."

Brian shook his head and disagreed, "It should be a solid normal car colour, as in a neutral, so that it doesn't attract attention." 

Roger put his hands on his hips and retorted, "Doesn't attract attention? This is a rock n' roll band, not the Women's Institute." 

"So?" Brian asked.

"So, we should go for something with a little more flare to draw up a crowd," Roger answered with a smirk. 

"A crowd of what? Robbers? I have a sneaking suspicion that a van that looks like a fucking rainbow vomited on it would scream, 'I carry valuables!'" Brian argued as he waved his arms around. 

Roger scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Before he could say anything, Jimmy the mechanic commented from his chair, "You guys are a cute couple." 

Brian glanced awkwardly at Roger and replied to the mechanic, "He's a guy."

"I know," Jimmy said as he returned to reading his book, "You remind me of Legolas and Gimli."

Roger's eyes widened and Brian stood with his mouth wide open. The drummer felt like he was going to drown in embarrassment.

"Did he just...?" Roger asked. He felt like he was floating on a cloud from the adrenaline rush.

"Yeah," Brian answered, "Let's go look at another van." 

"I saw a Volkswagen in the way back," Roger suggested.

"I'll beat you to it," Brian replied. He sped off like a bat out of hell and Roger chased after him. _Stupid super speed and super strength and Jimmy messing with my emotions!_ Roger internally cursed. 

The Volkswagen was a faded turquoise and clearly needed some maintenance, but Roger was overall pleased with its state.

"I think that this can work," Roger said.

"But the bright colour," Brian protested.

Roger opened up the back door and the stench of marijuana and body odor smacked him in the face like a tennis racket. _Clearly somebody had some good times back here,_ Roger thought with a sly smile.

Brian pinched his nose and gagged, "Close the door! Close the door!"

Roger slammed the door shut. 

"Did you not smell that?" Brian asked. He was still pinching his nose closed and fanning away the bad smell. 

"I did. I think it just needs to air out some," Roger said.

"No amount of airing out is ever going to get rid of that," Brian said, "You'd have to replace everything on the inside and do a deep clean!"

Roger pounded his fist on the door and kicked one of the tires. 

"Stupid super sniffer," he grumbled. _Stupid super strength, stupid super speed, stupid super sniffer, stupid Jimmy,_ Roger thought. 

The pair walked to the next van. It was in better condition than all the other vans in the lot. It was the right size, had the right mileage, and even passed Brian's smell test. It would be perfect for Roger, except it was navy in colour instead of something flashy.

"I think this is the one," Brian said, "I can't believe we found one at the first place we looked."

"The color still isn't what I'd like," Roger wined, "There are so many other places we can look at."

Brian patted the hood of the van like a pet dog and said, "Take a chance on it, Rog. I have a good feeling about it." 

Roger sighed and called, "Jimmy? Jimmy!" 

The mechanic waddled over to them with his book tucked under his arm. 

"Found one, boys?" he asked. 

"Yes," Brian replied, "How much for this van here?" 

"100 quid," he replied.

"100 pounds?" Roger laughed, "Who do we look like, the Queen?" _There is no way we are going to pay that much for something I don't even like,_ Roger thought. 

"Do ye 'ave somethin' you could trade-in?" Jimmy asked, "Cause I could drop the price." 

"No," Roger replied.

"May we negotiate for a lower price?" Brian asked.

Jimmy chuckled and asked, "What did you drive 'ere in?"

"My car," Roger answered, "What are you getting at?"

"So you do some something to trade in," Jimmy said.

Roger shook his head and Brian gave him a pleading look. 

"I hope you're joking," Roger told the guitarist. 

Brian put his hand on Roger's shoulder and said, "It's a good deal, Roger."

"I love my car. It is a good car!" Roger argued. _Does he really expect me to give up my wings like that?_ Roger wondered, _How the hell am I going to be a free driving around a vehicle the size of a small country?_

"Roger, I really think that we should do this," Brian pleaded. 

Roger folded his arms over his chest and huffed, "Fine. You are lucky that I like you so much." 

"I'll go do registration," the mechanic said with a pleased look on his face, "If ye could bring the car around back, that would be great." 

Brian followed Jimmy to his desk to sign any legal papers. Roger dragged his feet back over the pathway around the side of the building to see his beautiful car parked and waiting for him.

He climbed into his car for the last time and rubbed the steering wheel. He turned on the engine and listened to the sputter that he had known for years. He gulped and shifted his car into gear. 

"This is the last time, ol' pal," Roger whispered as he drove to the back of the car shop, "I will miss you." 

He stopped the car and handed the keys to Jimmy who traded him the keys of the van. When he got out, he traced his fingers over the door handle as a silent goodbye. 

"Pleasure doing business with ya," Jimmy said. 

Roger shook his hand and climbed into his new van. Brian was already waiting for him in the front passenger seat. He started the van and drove off into the road. He followed all the traffic laws on the way back to Freddie, adding about fifteen extra minutes onto their travel time. The van felt so different to him. It was a tank compared to his old car and he couldn't zip in and out of traffic when he wanted to without risking getting into a wreck. He now towered above most other vehicles in the city and his turning radius almost doubled.

"Are you okay, mate?" Brian asked.

Roger let out a soft chuckle. "You know, I had boy-racer rollbars. Paid for them myself," he said.

"You were in love with that car, I know," Brian sympathized, "But think about it this way. This van is the start of a new chapter for the band. Hell, we are going on tour in this thing." 

When Roger pulled into a parking space in front of Freddie's, Brian leaned over and gave him a side hug. Roger turned off the engine and let himself rest his head on Brian's shoulder. To his surprise, Brian rested his head on his. Roger closed his eyes and took in every detail he could. He was going to miss this moment, he knew. 

"Roger! Brian!" Freddie's muffled voice shouted from outside the van. 

Brian leaned away from Roger and opened up the door. "What?" He asked. 

"Is this the van?" John asked from the steps of Freddie's building.

"Yes, John," Roger answered. 

Freddie grinned and looked around. He asked, "Roger, dear, where is your car?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive flip flop of a tone from the beginning to end, but hey.
> 
> I am sorry for the late update. 
> 
> Which character, Legolas or Gimli, do you think Roger or Brian are more alike and why?
> 
> Please don't be afraid to comment! I love responding to you guys


	10. [Brian prepares for a] Seaside Rendezvous [with the band.]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary.
> 
> The band packs the van for their tour. 
> 
> Deaky and the peanuts. 
> 
> 'And get this... there was only one bed.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a work of fiction. All things here are dramatized for the sake of storytelling. The characters are based on the “character” or persona of the individuals depicted and are by no means meant to realistically or seriously portray real-life people. That being said, please DO NOT send this to the band members or their families. Also, please DO NOT pressure any band members or their family to comply with any element of this story.

POV Switch to Brian

———∞◊∞———

The day before Queen's first tour arrived almost as quickly as Brian's term paper due dates. Exams were difficult, but Brian and John were both thankful that they didn't fall on the Full Moon. Trying to earn a Ph.D. in Astrophysics was hard enough without an animal controlling his mind every night and once a month for almost a full day.

Brian, ever since the tour was announced, worked tirelessly on trying to control his nightly shifts into his wolf form. John tried to help, but his method of 'picture yourself human and will it not to happen' just didn't work for Brian. He would only elongate the already painful shift and his disappointment translated over to his wolf form. He woke up in the mornings with memories of himself moping around his flat on all fours and scratches on his front door from him trying to get out. 

He wasn't going to give up. _If the tour is worth doing at all, it is worth doing right. That is, in human form the whole time,_ he decided as he ran his fingertips over his scratched door.

"If John can do it, so can I," he told himself.

Brian gathered his luggage and hauled it over to Freddie's flat. The band decided that they would all stay the night there so that they could leave as early as possible the next morning. They already made plans for if Brian shifts. They would lock him in John's room, hope that he doesn't destroy anything valuable, and let him out in the morning.

Brian thought that his two large bags would be heavy, but his Lycan strength said otherwise. He could tell by the tug on the skin on his fingers that the bags had weight, but the weight was somehow lost in translation as it traveled through his hands and up through his arms. He was a skinny lad and wished he had muscles to show off his new power. Brian got funny looks as he walked down the street as his stick-bug figure strutted along carrying stuffed suitcases like empty lunch boxes.

When he finally arrived at Freddie's place, he simply walked in the front door without even knocking. The band had gotten to the point where they were constantly in and out of Freddie's flat. As long as they didn't let the cats out, they could let themselves in and out.

Roger, Freddie, and John sat around the kitchen table as John went over the packing list. 

"Instruments, check. Amps, check. Cords and cables, check," John read as he counted on his fingers.

Brian greeted, "Hello. I've brought my stuff. How far along are we?"

"Take a seat," Roger said as he pulled out a chair next to him, "We are just going over the list."

"Fantastic," Brian replied. He set down his bags by Freddie's piano and joined the band at the table next to Roger.

"Did you bring petrol money?" John asked.

 _Right to the point, as always,_ Brian thought. He dug through his pockets and produced his promised share of the gas cost.

"Here we are," Brian said as he passed the money to John. John counted it and placed it in the middle of the table.

"That should be enough to get us there and back," John said, "That is if we don't go on a detour."

Brian, Roger, and John looked at Freddie.

"Oh, piss off," Freddie jabbed with a smile.

Roger smirked and glanced at Brian for a second. "So, we've already covered snacks for the ride down," he said, "Where are we on clothes?"

"I've got everything thanks to that list you gave me," Brian replied. Roger grinned with pride. He had only given Brian the list the day before, but it was detailed and well thought out. Brian was thankful that Roger cared that much to make him such a list.

John chuckled, "Freddie hijacked my clothing packing. Apparently I can't fend for myself."

"In all seriousness, darlings, make sure you are bringing at least two changes of clothes for each day! And at least three pairs of shoes and a fresh pair of pants for every day we are gone," Freddie ordered, "Don't you dare pull the frontward-backward-inside-out and back again bullshit. I'm looking at you, Roger!"

Roger rubbed the back of his and turned red like a ripe tomato. Brian patted his shoulder to consolidate him. Roger gently placed his hand over Brian's and Brian hoped that it wasn't a sign that he patted too hard.

"Everyone does that, Freddie," Brian defended, "It's smart to recycle, especially when we can't wash our clothes."

"I don't do that," Freddie argued, "Only the freshest cloth for my ballsack, my dear." 

John covered his face with his hands and groaned, "Oh my god, Freddie." 

"What?" Freddie beamed. A mischievous smirk spread across his face. Roger and Brian laughed.

John slapped his hands back on the table and answered, "You know what."

"Freddie, did you call Mary about looking after Tom and Jerry?" Roger asked.

Brian furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head toward Freddie.

"Mary? Who is Mary?" Brian asked. He dated a girl named Mary back home. She was a lovely girl, absolutely beautiful. She loved animals like Brian did, especially cats. She also had a keen fashion sense which reminded Brian of Roger.

"Mary who lives upstairs," Freddie explained, "She has been my friend for quite a while and she looks after the cats when I go away for long periods of time."

"She works at Biba," Roger added.

 _Shit. Surely it isn't the same Mary,_ Brian thought, _that would be too crazy of a coincidence. Besides, there are many girls out there named Mary._ Roger gave Brian a funny look. 

"And yes, Roger, I did call her," Freddie said, "And she said that she would be happy to."

"Ooo," Roger cooed.

Freddie shuffled in his seat and Brian raised his eyebrows.

"Do we like this Mary?" Brian asked.

Freddie looked away and Roger responded for him, "It was a fling that could have been before we met you."

John crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow.

"It was so long ago. I highly doubt she feels the same way now, dears. That ship has sailed and I have moved on," Freddie said. 

_Moved on to what? The friend-zone?_ Brian wondered. 

Freddie stood up and changed the subject, "Now, if we are all done packing, shall we load everything into the van so that we are ready in the morning?"

"I volunteer the two Lycans," Roger said.

"We'll all load up," Freddie overrode. 

Packing up the van ended up being mostly John and Brian anyways. Freddie directed them on how to stack their luggage and gear while Roger scolded them for nearly scraping his new vehicle.

Afterward, the band gathered around a Scrabble board that Roger set up on the kitchen table. John snacked on a bowl of peanuts and Freddie pet Jerry who perched in his lap. The night drew near and Brian felt his shift coming along. The words became harder to articulate and his speech slurred.

"Doing alright, mate?" John asked with a mouthful of peanuts. 

"Feeling shifty," Brian replied. He felt his fangs tip through his gums and he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed that they would go away. 

John threw a peanut at Brian and it hit him square in the forehead. 

"Ow! What was that for?" Brian demanded.

"Stop wallowing in self-pity. That will only make it worse," John said as he threw another peanut at Brian.

"Could you stop?" Brian growled.

John replied with a cheeky grin, "Only when you stop shifting."

Brian grunted in response. _Who does he think he is?_ Brian wondered.

"I'm doing it. You just have to push it back for the first little while," John encouraged, "Then it just sort of gives up and leaves you alone." 

"I believe in you, Brian," Roger said.

"Maybe go put on some music that he likes," John suggested, "That always helped me." 

Freddie walks over and puts the Hendrix Experience album on the record player. Brian swayed in his seat to the sweet sound of guitar prodigy. He closed his eyes and listen to the crunched sound of Jimi's Stratocaster paired with his signature Wah Wah pedal. 

"You know," Brian said, "I used to think I was pretty good at guitar. Then I listen to Hendrix."

Roger hummed in agreement. 

"You know, this sort of stuff has never been really my style," John said as he placed down a few letters on the Scrabble board.

Brian, Roger, and Freddie's heads snap to him and they stare in disbelief. 

John gulped. 

"How is musical perfection not your style?" Roger questioned. 

"I like the slower stuff or music with a little groove," John's trembling voice answered, "Like soul."

Brian was repelled. He could sense his eyes glowing amber and John's hand hovered over his bowl of peanuts unsure of what to do. 

"Blasphemy!" Freddie declared, "I dub thee excommunicated from all things rock n' roll!" 

John looked Freddie in the eye and threw a peanut at him. It landed on the floor, but Freddie picked it up and ate it. Brian suppressed a gag.

Roger placed down the letter E and tallied up his points. He said, "Get this, instead of Brian May and Jimi Hendrix, we have Brimi Maydrix."

The table paused. 

"I feel like I just had a stroke listening to you say that," Freddie giggled.

"Yeah," John agreed, "I'll just stick with Brian or Bri."

"Brimi Maydrix," Roger mumbled to himself before devolving into a fit of laughter, "I'm so funny and you lot don't even know it." 

Brian rolled his eyes and chuckled. _What a peculiar fellow this bloke is,_ he thought. 

"Say, John, do you have any nicknames?" Freddie asked as he glanced over his letters.

"My mates back home called me Deaky from my surname," John replied. 

Brian tilted his head and another peanut hit him in the face. He caught it in his hand as it fell and popped it into his mouth. To his surprise, he tasted the full flavor of the salt and the peanut itself. He ran his tongue over the tips of his teeth and felt no unnaturally sharpened fangs. _It's working!_ he internally cheered.

"Deaky? Really? You had friends?" Roger teased. John's mouth opened in offense. 

Brian snorted and placed down his letters. "Deaky, it's your turn for Scrabble," Brian jibed. 

John placed down a P and an A. 

"Oh Deaky, that wasn't a bright move," Freddie purred. 

"Shut up," John retorted, "I will take away all of your Deaky privileges if you all keep being pricks."

"Too late, Deaky," Roger taunted.

Freddie nodded his head and said, "The deed has been done."

The Scrabble game went by and with each passing moment, the impending feeling of the shift subsided until it was nothing. It felt freeing to Brian for it to not be hanging over his head. He felt like he just laid down after a long day of standing and relief shivered up his spine from the release of pressure.

Roger won the Scrabble game and paraded around the flat with the score sheet in his hand. 

"I am the champion!" He crowed, "No time for losers!"

"Quit being an arsehole about it or I will kick sand into your face," Freddie, who got second place by one point, fumed.

John yawned and said, "I don't know about you, but I am ready to be off to Bedfordshire." 

He crawled onto Freddie's couch in the living room and hugged one of the throw pillows like a teddy bear. John pressed his tired baby-like face into the cushion and sighed.

"What are you doing?" Brian asked.

"I'm sleeping here," John said, "You and Roger can take my bed." 

"That won't be necessary, John," Brian protested, "You can go sleep in your own bed."

"Speak for yourself," Roger said, "I'm taking the bed." 

"I'm going to go get ready to sleep," Freddie said, "You have fun, darlings." 

Just before he entered his bedroom, Brian caught Freddie winking at Roger. Brian turned back to the couch and saw John already fast asleep.

"I can stay on the floor if you just lend me a blanket and a pillow," Brian said.

"If it is really going to bother you that much, we can build a pillow wall between us," Roger replied with a dropped tone. _Was that defeat in his voice?_ Brian wondered.

"Don't want to wolf out in the middle of the night," Brian said.

"Fine," Roger responded, "I'll go brush my teeth and shit. You go make a pallet."

Roger marched off to the toilet and Brian opened the door to John's room and turned on the light. John had a simple room with yellow and pink flowery wallpaper. He had a window with thick closed dark red curtains and a small desk covered in cut wired and broken pieces of plywood. Above his desk were pictures of what Brian assumed was his family crudely pinned to the wall. John's queen-sized bed had forest green covers with yellow chevron that traced around its rims. A small black trunk sat at the foot of the bed and the corners of a spare blanket peaked out from under its lid. Besides the mess on the desk, John's room was neat and well put together. Brian was impressed.

He pulled out the blanket from the trunk and snatched one of the pillows from John's bed. He placed the blanket over his shoulders and laid down on the floor next to the bed. The old carpeted floor threatened to leave imprints on his skin in the morning, so Brian wrapped himself up in the blanket like a burrito. To his dismay, the blanket was too short for him and his bare feet hang out in the cold.

The door creaked open and Roger crept into the room. He stared at his friend on the ground and said, "The offer still stands. You look pretty miserable."

"Oh, no. I'm good," Brian said, though his toes slowly turning into icecubes screamed otherwise.

"Suit yourself, mate," Roger grumbled as he turned off the light and hopped into bed. He rolled around for a second as he got himself comfortable.

"Goodnight, Bri," Roger whispered.

"Night, Rog," Brian replied.

Only a few moments later, Roger's soft snores filled the air.

Brian twisted and turned for what seemed like hours on the floor. The carpet offered him any extra cushion and the cold air lapped at his feet like a hungry artic tide. He twiddled his thumbs and hoped that he would soon feel tired enough to pass out. The sounds of the London night came muffled in through the window and Brian groaned. With every fleeting moment, the extra space on John's bed seemed more and more inviting.

"Fuck it," Brian mumbled as he got up from his spot on the ground. He delicately climbed into the bed next to Roger and felt the mattress dip a little under his weight. Roger moved around and flipped to face Brian. Brian held his breath and waited a moment. The blond seemed to still be asleep, so Brian gently pulled back the blanket on his side and slid his body under them. Almost immediately his cold toes cried tears of joy to be under warm covers. Brian placed his head down on his pillow and fell asleep.

At one moment during the night, he woke up to a warm weight on his chest. He opened his eyes in the startle and looked down. Roger laid across him with his arm snuggly wrapped around his waist with his head resting on Brian's chest.

Brian froze and gulped. Unable to move without waking up Roger, Brian laid awake. _What do I do? What do I do?_ Brian pondered, _Surely he is doing this in his sleep, the poor bloke._ Brian wiggled around a little to try to loosen up Roger's grasp. Roger softly moaned and pulled him tighter. Brian clenched his jaw. He brought this upon himself by choosing to sleep on the bed instead of the floor, but somehow he felt more comfortable than he ever had before. Roger's breath tickled his arm and Brian instinctively ran his fingers through the blond's hair.

 _Angel,_ Brian thought as he stared at Roger's face, _sleeping angel._

Roger moved one last time and Brian found himself tilting his head forward to the drummer's forehead.

Brian placed a little kiss on his head and whispered, "Goodnight, Roggie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that concludes the end of part 1 of 'Now I'm Here!'
> 
> Please post any questions, comments, or concerns.
> 
> (Also, I've never written any of 'the romance' stuff before, so may you please give me some feedback?)
> 
> If you have any suggestions, ideas, or predictions on where you think this story is going to go, please let me know! I often use your comments to help with writer's block!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I would love to see and respond to your comments!


End file.
